


She Walked Like a Woman

by sabinelagrande



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Anthropomorphic, Bathing/Washing, Character Turned Into a Human, Clint Barton Is a Good Bro, Comic Book Science, Don't Touch Lola, Established Relationship, F/M, Happy Ending, Human Lola, I Know Dick About Cars, Innuendo, M/M, Mindlessly Self Indulgent, Multi, Not Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. Compliant, Other, Polyamory, Possessive Phil Coulson, Protectiveness, SHIELD Husbands, Slow Build, Threesome - F/M/M, Tony No, Touching, Voyeurism, You heard me, creepers, lol whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-29
Updated: 2013-06-04
Packaged: 2017-12-13 07:56:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/821868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabinelagrande/pseuds/sabinelagrande
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Goddammit, Tony.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The note in Phil's parking space just said _I am very, very sorry_.

The person who left it was going to be very, very sorry about the fact that Phil knew his handwriting.

Jarvis barely put up a fuss as he let Phil into the Tower, sending him straight up to the R&D department. As he stepped off the elevator, an extremely attractive woman stood with her back turned to him; she wore a white dress and black heels, her shining, cherry-red hair cut into a flattering bob.

Tony spotted him over her shoulder, and Phil was very pleased when he cowered.

Seeing Tony's reaction, the woman turned around, and her eyes lit up. "Phil," she said, in a smooth, low voice, and even in that one word she made it sound like she knew everything about him, everything that there was to know. Before Phil could say anything, she walked behind him and simply molded herself against him, pressing herself against him tightly.

"Excuse me," he said, as she wrapped her arms around him, one across his chest and the other around his waist. There was something familiar about her touch, like he'd felt her against him before, but he wasn't precisely in the habit of being held this close by women and then forgetting their names. "Do I know you?"

"Um," Tony said. "So, this is Lola."

Phil drew a deep breath and counted to ten. Then he counted to twenty. And thirty. "What?" he said, not sure he could get out another word without screaming.

"This isn't any weirder than anything else that we go through," Tony pleaded. "I promise I brought it- her- the car up here because it didn't sound right when you drove it in and I was going to fix _one thing_ and it got sort of in the way of something else- I mean, this is the least of our worries right now, there's a Quinjet sitting in the next room who calls himself Rick for no reason that I can determine-"

"Stark," he snapped. "What did you do to my car?"

"Well," Tony said, looking at the two of them. Phil had put his hands over hers in an attempt to remove them from his person, but somehow their fingers had become entwined. "From here it looks like I might have made her into your new girlfriend."

Phil scowled, gently but firmly lifting her hands away from him and stepping away. She made a disappointed sound, but stayed put. "You can't turn inanimate objects into people," he said. Somehow, it seemed both fucking ridiculous and completely plausible that they would have to have this conversation. "It creates too many complications."

"I only did it twice," he protested. "And I had Pepper hide the- okay for as much as you know about this stuff it could be the flux capacitor- so that I couldn't put it back together."

"You can't just make it go in reverse?" Phil asked.

Tony frowned. "That seems rude."

Phil rubbed his forehead. "I have no idea what the paperwork on this is going to look like," he muttered.

"On the bright side, pretty sure you don't have to pay collision on her anymore," Tony said. "And SHIELD probably has benefits for-" He looked at Lola. "I feel like 'domestic partners' is the only phrase that really suits here."

"In your capacity as a SHIELD consultant, you'll be completing a full report on what's happened here," Phil said stiffly. "I'll be taking my- I'll be taking Lola back to headquarters."

"You're sure?" Tony said. "I mean, I have a perfectly good garage here."

Phil narrowed his eyes.

"I know, I know, don't touch Lola, you might as well wear a sign," Tony grumbled. "You kids have fun."

"Come with me," Phil said, putting his hand on Lola's shoulder and leading her towards the elevator.

"Are we going for a drive?" Lola said excitedly. "Do you have your keys?" She frowned. "I just don't know where my ignition is anymore. Can you check?"

"Not a goddamn word, Stark," Phil warned. 

"Wouldn't dream of it," Tony said, barely holding back what would surely be a riot of laughter.

Phil took her into the elevator, ordering Jarvis to take them down.

He was going to have to resist the urge to check her very, very thoroughly.


	2. Chapter 2

Agent Simmons's report was very comprehensive, in that it very comprehensively said, "I have no idea what's going on, but isn't exciting?" in several different ways. No matter the tests, the fact remained that two expensive vehicles were missing, coinciding with the appearance of two people who matched no DNA or fingerprint databases that SHIELD could access- which was all of them.

Perhaps not surprisingly, the two of them were like night and day. Lola came to maybe five-foot-five and was a little skittish when anyone but Phil touched her; Rick was a tall, dark-skinned man with a no-nonsense attitude and an unflattering military haircut. He answered questions in complete, succinct sentences and showed no particular sensitivity or deference towards anyone.

They thought so, anyway, until a certain pilot showed up. Upon seeing her, Rick swallowed hard. "Agent May," he said, standing up straight and looking at a point over her head.

"Do I know you?" she asked.

"We made an emergency landing once," he said. "It was a traumatic one."

She gave him a once-over. "That's unfortunate. You must be the one with the sticky controls."

He frowned, looking a little hurt. "I was completely repaired, ma'am."

"For certain values of the word 'repaired', apparently," she said dryly. She turned to Phil. "He can't be allowed to leave base. He could potentially know any amount of sensitive information. His clearance level and status will have to be determined."

"Agreed," Phil said. He glanced at Lola. "That's half our problem."

"Your car was never part of the SHIELD fleet," Melinda said. "Keeping her here would cause more problems than it solves, but she needs to be guarded for security reasons." Lola put her hands on Phil's shoulder, pressing herself against his side, and Melinda raised an eyebrow. "I don't get the impression that that will be a problem."

"I'll arrange for identification," Phil said. "You can spare me for a day or two while her-" Lola moved closer, nuzzling his arm. "Ultimate placement is decided."

"You're voluntarily taking days out of the field?" Melinda asked, as close to shocked as she ever got. "Are you certain you're feeling alright?"

Phil wasn't quite sure how to answer that question; he felt more than a little like he'd taken leave of his senses. "I believe we have a plan here." Melinda gave him the 'sometimes I wish I outranked you' look, and he backtracked a little. "I'll be on call, of course."

Phil's version of 'on call' usually consisted of sitting by his comm waiting for it to go off, but that evening was perhaps a little different. After a few pit stops on the way, he took Lola back to his apartment; she seemed generally delighted by everything, far more familiar with things than he'd expected from someone who was until very recently an automobile.

"I've heard a lot of conversations," she said. "I can figure things out."

She immediately disproved that statement by trying to climb into the refrigerator, but hopefully she'd do okay.

They'd explored the apartment by the time Clint arrived home; Lola was looking through the things Phil had purchased for her, just a few necessities if she was going to stay. "That's the Corvette?" Clint asked in disbelief.

Apparently Lola's reputation preceded her; Phil was not particularly surprised by this development. "She has a name," he said.

"Where did all this stuff come from?" Clint asked, watching the tissue paper fly as she dug into the bags on the table.

"That vintage store a couple blocks from here," he replied, turning resolutely to face Clint as she bent over at the waist to reach something.

"Because K-Mart's not good enough for your baby," Clint said.

"She had to have new clothes," Phil argued. "She only came with one dress."

Lola straightened, inspecting a pair of panties that may have been just a little brief.

"She had to have _all_ new clothes," Phil said defensively. 

She looked up, seeing Clint for the first time. "Clint," she said, hurrying over to give him one of her peculiar hugs.

"And here you said she didn't like me," Clint said.

"You can ride, but I don't like it when you drive," she said, letting him go. "You corner too hard."

"Is it as hard as I think to keep a straight face when she talks?" Clint asked Phil.

"For you, probably harder," Phil replied. "Lola, are you hungry? You haven't eaten."

She frowned. "I don't know how to tell. People fill me up when I need it."

"I'm going to die," Clint said. "Can you laugh yourself to death? Because if you can I'm going to die."

Phil ignored him. "We'll work on it," he said. "For now let's just eat."

There was takeout waiting, and Phil dished it out for himself and Clint; there was a separate box waiting in the fridge for Lola.

"She's been here a day and you're putting her on Slim-Fast?" Clint said. "That's pretty low."

"She ran on gasoline," Phil pointed out. "I don't know if she knows how to chew."

"That is an excellent but weird point," Clint said.

"Drink it slow," Phil said, twisting off the top and handing it to her.

She sniffed it, gingerly lifting it to her lips and taking a sip. She frowned, tasting it again, and then she tipped it up and drank the whole thing down, licking her lips and handing back the bottle.

"Chocolate is a success," Phil said, taking another one out of the package. "Let's try strawberry."

After dinner, she all but dragged Clint into the bedroom. He gave Phil a bewildered look, and Phil ignored the slight pinch of jealousy that he felt. But no, what she wanted was to show off all her new clothes; her tastes ran towards form-fitting, mostly red and white, and Phil resented the so far unvoiced implication that he was dressing her up for his pleasure.

"Phil said it was the wrong season," she said excitedly, stepping out of the closet in a red and white polka dot bikini, "but he likes to drive to the lake, and he said we can all go this summer."

Clint very slowly turned his head to look at Phil. "He did, did he?"

Phil looked at him apologetically. "It was on sale."

"That's all my new clothes," she said, walking back into the closet. "He said I had to have some." She came back out again wearing the pajamas Phil had bought her, which were, mercifully, men's style in red gingham. "I think I might be tired. Can I go to the garage?"

"It's not safe to sleep in the garage," Phil said delicately. "You can sleep up here."

She looked a little worried by this notion. "I'll try it," she said. 

She was deeply skeptical of the bed, declaring its soft surface unsafe terrain, but she lay down anyway, letting Phil turn off the lights and leave her there. He went back to his bedroom, where Clint was already in bed; Phil got the distinct impression that he wasn't precisely happy. Phil brushed his teeth and changed into his pajama pants before getting into bed next to Clint. He lay down, waiting for it to come.

"So, to recap," Clint said, raising himself up on his elbow and looking down at Phil. "The human version of your car is sleeping in the next room. She likes pretty things and knows about as much as a four-year-old-"

"She's older than me," Phil protested. "She's smarter than she lets on."

Clint sighed. "Phil, what exactly are we going to do about this?"

Phil reached over and switched off the light. "I have absolutely no idea."


	3. Chapter 3

Phil woke up with the full expectation that he would find that the previous day had been a strange dream. 

Instead, there was a tired-looking redhead at his table, a series of small bottles lined up in front of her. Clint sat across from her with his bowl of cereal; he looked up at Phil with an expression that said maybe he'd thought it was a dream too, and wasn't particularly excited that it wasn't.

"Did you have a good night?" Phil asked. "Was the bed okay?"

"I slept on the floor," she said, wincing as she stretched. "It seemed safer."

Phil frowned, trying not to sigh. "Maybe we'll start with the air mattress. You might be more comfortable closer to the ground." He took a banana out of the loose arrangement of fruit in the center of the table that had long been waiting for one of them to remember to buy a bowl. He peeled it and took a bite, pondering how exactly to ask a grown woman about what she'd done in the bathroom, because unfortunately he really did need to know. "Did you brush your teeth?" he asked, for want of a starting point.

She nodded. "I know that one. People do the strangest things when they're supposed to be watching the road," she said disapprovingly, shaking her head. "I figured out the sink and the toilet, but I'm not sure how to use the bathtub."

"It'll be an adventure," Clint said, and Phil gave him a look.

"I like adventures," she said, taking another sip of her Slim-Fast.

The bathtub was, in fact, an adventure, though Phil got the sense it would be a relatively minor one comparatively. Lola balked at the shower, uncomfortably like getting rained on, so Phil drew her a bath; she was only allowed into it after being told that no, she couldn't eat any of the soap, and no, she shouldn't try to stand up fast when she was done, and no, she really, really, really didn't need to take her clothes off before Phil left, but yes, she could keep the door open in case of an emergency.

Phil left the bathroom and closed the door to, ignoring the soft splashing sounds behind him. Clint was, unsurprisingly, waiting for him, leaning back against the wall; Phil walked past him, far enough that they were out of earshot, and Clint followed.

"How long are you on leave?" Clint asked.

"A day or two," Phil replied. "Until we can decide what to do with Lola."

"You've already decided what you're going to do with Lola, so go on and say it," Clint said.

"She's staying here," Phil said, not willing to make this more of a fight than it already would be. "For now we have to support her. She can't do much right now."

"Except sit in our apartment and look pretty," Clint said.

"I never said that," Phil told him. "She needs our help." He smirked. "You can sit in the apartment and look pretty too, if it makes you feel better."

His joke fell flat. "Phil," Clint said, agitated. "I know you loved your car and took really good care of her, but you can't just have a kept woman."

Before he even opened his mouth, Phil knew that "Why not?" was the wrong answer.

"Why not?" Phil asked.

Clint took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, making a face that made it look like he was mentally reciting the Serenity Prayer. "Well, let's just start with the fact that we can't afford it and move on from there."

"I'm not going to just turn her out when she doesn't have any skills." Phil paused. "That didn't come out right."

"We don't know how to do anything you can get a real job doing, and we do fine," Clint said. "Do you think I can type?"

"You could be an archery instructor," Phil offered.

"There you go, we'll give her to the high school to teach Driver's Ed," Clint said.

"We're not giving her to anyone," Phil said, pursing his lips. "She's staying right here for the foreseeable future."

"I don't dislike her," Clint said apologetically. "We just need to be realistic."

"I'm being perfectly realistic," Phil said, though even to himself he sounded like he wasn't. Then again, there had never been anything realistic about his owning Lola when she was a car. "We'll make it work. After all, we get hazard pay almost constantly, and all she wants to eat is chocolate Slim-Fast."

"If she's staying, we really have to work on that," Clint said. "It's not healthy. This-" He made a twirling motion with his finger, encompassing the apartment- "is not healthy."

Phil took a deep breath. "She's not an idiot or a child," he said. "She doesn't know very much about doing human things. She was a car for fifty years. She's only been a human for a day. She just needs some time."

"Sure hope you know what you're doing," Clint said, walking off, and Phil knew it was the closest he was going to get to an approval.

"Me too," he said, not particularly caring if Clint heard. He walked back down the hallway, tapping on the bathroom door. "Are you doing okay?"

"I think I'm fine," Lola asked. "Can I have a sponge next time? This net thing is scratchy."

"I'll see what I can do," Phil told her. He was quickly realizing that there was a good possibility he'd move heaven and earth for her; what was a sponge in the grand scheme of things?


	4. Chapter 4

Phil already knew that he couldn't spend time away from HQ, even when he was technically just on call. Right now there were too many things to be arranged, too many people to speak to. Manufacturing an identity was child's play, even a more-than-temporary one, but it was rather difficult to do it in a text message- though they were working on that.

Melinda found the three of them, Lola and Phil and Clint, who was in that state between missions where loitering was his primary responsibility. She looked pointedly at the fingerprint tech until he left, then locked the door behind him.

"Rick is showing good results," Melinda said. Her face was placid, but Phil knew her well enough to know that she was gushing. "His track times are in the top tier for first-year recruits, and his marksmanship is excellent." She looked at Lola. "I assume you've performed similar testing."

Phil resisted the urge to stare at his shoes.

"I ate a pear," Lola offered.

"She's not a military vehicle," Phil said apologetically.

Melinda raised her eyebrows. "There are a few logistical issues," she said, and Phil would bet money that that was a polite way of saying that he hadn't figured out pears, "but Rick has consented to join SHIELD, given appropriate results on further testing."

"At this time, it's in Lola's best interests to keep her under observation, in order to fully determine the range of her capabilities," Phil said, trying to sound like a professional and not like a junior agent who'd been caught with his pants down. "We don't anticipate any breaches of security."

"You'd better be sure about that, Coulson. I'm not sure what she understands or can do," Melinda said, with an undertone of 'because you didn't find out for me' that Phil could clearly hear.

Clint looked at Lola like he'd just figured something out. "Lola," he said. "Who lost the 1972 presidential election?"

"In which country?" Lola asked.

"Let's stick with the US," he said.

She frowned. "Do you want the third parties?"

"Tell me everyone who got electoral votes and didn't win," Clint said.

"George McGovern and John Hospers," she said. "George McGovern was a Democrat from South Dakota. Hospers was the Libertarian candidate. Nixon won, but of course, then there was Watergate."

"Tell me who won the last Super Bowl," he said.

She looked uncertainly at Phil. "Phil doesn't like football," she said. "But the Giants won the World Series last year."

"What's my favorite song?" Clint asked.

"Hit Me With Your Best Shot," she said.

Clint looked at Phil and Melinda. "People love the radio," he said, shrugging. "Lola, what's the access code for hangar 2-11-D2?"

She frowned. "You have to show a badge for hangar 2-11-D2. I don't know any codes. Phil doesn't talk about work when he's in me." 

Clint's cheek twitched, but he managed to keep a straight face otherwise. "Do you understand why you can't talk about anything you've seen to anyone but me and Phil?"

"No," she admitted freely. "But if you don't want me to talk, then I won't. I've kept a lot of people's secrets."

"It takes a little more than a good memory and a promise to be SHIELD material," Melinda said.

"She's not SHIELD's business," Phil said.

Melinda gave him a look. "You're a Level 7, Coulson," she said, not unkindly. "Your entire life is SHIELD's business."

Phil pursed his lips. "Until a determination is made about her security clearance, she'll be kept under supervision. At this time, she is not considered a SHIELD agent or affiliate."

"That's your call," Melinda said, in the voice that meant he was being an asshole, which he probably was. She looked between him and Lola. "I'll leave you to it."

"She doesn't like me," Lola said, as Melinda left.

"Agent May is," Phil said, pausing to look for the right word. "Utilitarian."

The technician poked his head in the door, still looking a little scared, and Phil waved him in. Melinda's disapproval was really the last thing he needed; she wouldn't breathe a word about any of this, wouldn't even if weren't classified, but it was really just a preview of what he'd get from the rest of SHIELD if this persisted.

"Give him your hand," Phil said when the tech sat down, and she did it, though she looked like she'd rather not.

Phil still felt out of sorts when they got home; Lola seemed to tell that he was in a bad mood, not following him when he went to sit on the couch. He sank down into it, resting his head against the back. Maybe he'd just take a nap and give it another chance for all this to be a dream.

"Lola," Clint said in the hallway. "I want to talk to you for a minute."

"Sure," she said brightly.

At some point in his life, Phil had probably thought of eavesdropping as a bad habit; then he'd gone to work for SHIELD. He sat very still, turning his head to listen without making it look like he was.

"I need you to know something," Clint said. "You don't have to do anything anyone asks of you, okay? Doesn't matter if it's me or Phil or anybody else. You get to make your own choices."

"But Phil-"

"Phil nothing," he said. "Phil doesn't make your decisions. You do."

"But I don't know what to do."

"That's the hard part of being human," he told her. "Nobody's going to tell you. If they do, don't listen. I think you're very smart in a lot of ways, but some people aren't. People are going to try to take advantage of you. You have to be one step ahead of them."

"Will you help me?" she asked.

Clint hesitated. "I don't know if I'm the person you should be asking for help making good life decisions."

"Please," she said, and her tone made Phil's heart hurt.

Clint sighed. "We'll see, okay? C'mere," he said. "I don't want you to be upset. I just want you to be careful. And if you don't want to stay with us, then I don't want you to stay."

She made a sniffling noise. "I'm gonna go to the bathroom now," she said unsteadily, and Phil was somehow pleased that she'd already figured out how to get out of uncomfortable conversations.

"We can talk later if you want," Clint said.

"Okay," she replied, and Phil could hear her walk away.

Phil looked up at Clint as he entered the living room. "I'm sure you knew I could hear," Phil said.

"I'm not feeling subtle," Clint said.

"I thought you were jealous of her," Phil admitted.

Clint's brow furrowed. "Why?"

"I'd be jealous," Phil said.

"You love her," Clint said. "You always have, way more than you should love a car. But you love me too. It's not a problem."

"You don't get to have much when you live like we do," Phil said, as Clint sat down on the couch next to him. "Maybe you go to the same place for vacation every year or two. Maybe you fish. Maybe you drive a nice car. You don't get anything else. You give everything else away."

"You don't own her anymore," Clint said firmly. "She's not yours to keep."

"I know that." Phil coughed, shaking his head. "I want her to make her own choices. But I think I might be taking the whole thing a little hard."

"You think?" Clint said.

"Life's too short," Phil said, and Clint's expression changed. He put his arm around Phil; Phil stiffened, but Clint wasn't having it, pulling him against his side and holding him there.

"I think we might be expecting a little much out of everybody," Clint said.

"That's our baseline," Phil told him.

"Then I guess we just have to man up," Clint said. "As usual."

"We'll figure it out," Phil said. "We always do."


	5. Chapter 5

"Look, I have tickets already, and it's an environment she'll be comfortable in," Phil said.

"I don't know who you're arguing with," Clint told him, sipping his coffee. "I didn't say no, and even if I did, it isn't my choice."

"Just because you didn't say no doesn't mean you've said yes," Phil said.

"Does she want to?" Clint asked.

"I haven't said anything yet," Phil said. "I didn't want to get her hopes up."

"Then if she wants to, I think you should take her," Clint told him. "It'll be fun."

"You're saying that because I'm going to give her your ticket," Phil pointed out.

Clint just sipped his coffee impassively, which Phil knew was a yes. Clint only went to car shows because he was a very good husband. Possibly blowjobs were involved.

Perhaps not surprisingly, Lola was overjoyed. "I thought you weren't going to take me, now that you can't show me," she said excitedly. "It'll be so much more fun now that I can move around."

"I don't think it would have been a very good idea before," Phil said. "The aisles are a little small."

The event was one of the biggest in the area, a wide variety of cars being shown. The was a conspicuous missing space for a Corvette in one section, but Lola didn't seem to care at all. Phil was certain that she could hop up there in her sundress and heels and get more than a few looks, but he wasn't exactly dying for that to happen.

Phil went to these things because he loved them, obviously, but he developed a new appreciation seeing the show with Lola. He'd never seen her so excited, so in her element. She knew something about practically everything; when she didn't, she pored over placards, wanting to know it all.

In one hall, Phil paused to admire a Model K, which had always been a favorite. The seats were cracked and the hood had a minor split; to anyone who didn't appreciate it, the car would just look worn-out, worthless, but it had a certain elegance to it.

"The paint isn't original," she said confidentially.

Phil frowned at her. "This is the unrestored section."

"I know," she said. "But that's not the original paint. It's been repainted and aged."

"How did you know that?" he asked.

She smiled. "People think the cars can't listen."

Phil suddenly realized how intensely creepy that statement was, but really, it was already far, far too late.

"It's okay," she said, hooking her arm through his. "They usually don't care."

"I guess that's something," Phil said.

"Let's go see the hot rods," she said, tugging at his arm. "I never get to see the hot rods."

They'd almost made their way through the entire show, which was no small feat, when someone finally recognized Phil, pulling him away as Lola stood entranced by another display.

"Where's the Corvette?" the guy asked, and it was only with extreme effort that Phil didn't say, "Over by the Packard."

They chatted for a bit; it turned out to be too long, given what happened. They were still talking when Lola suddenly stormed up, looking furious.

"We have to go," she said. The man he'd been talking to frowned, nodding to Phil and making a graceful exit.

Before Phil could ask what was wrong, a security guard approached. "I'm sorry, ma'am," he said, looking genuinely apologetic. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"You don't have to ask me anything, because I'm not staying," she said. She grabbed Phil's arm. "Come on."

"What happened in there?" he asked, once they were outside.

Lola stopped, shutting her eyes and taking a few deep breaths. "I don't know his name," she said. "He's a big guy, black hair. He cornered me and was telling me all about everything he'd do for me, how he'd give me anything I wanted. He said he could take care of me better than my daddy could."

"You didn't believe any of that, did you?" he asked, alarmed, ignoring how impossibly old it made him feel that he could be mistaken for her father, when Lola looked like she could easily be thirty.

Lola gave him a look that made him remember that she'd had fifty years' worth of owners who were almost all male. "Then he touched me, so I slapped him."

Phil's jaw clenched. "We have to go now, or I'm going back in there."

"Phil, don't," she said. "If we go back, we're going to get arrested. Let's just get in the car."

The ride home was silent; Phil knew it was the wrong thing to do, that he should reassure her, make it perfectly clear that he wasn't mad at her, but he couldn't think about anything but smashing that bastard's face in. This was the absolute last thing he needed, to have her upset on her first day out of the house, to have some asshole frighten her like that. The guy was a fucking vulture; Phil was very aware that Lola was going to end up facing a lot of them, but she deserved better.

He parked in front of the apartment, turning off the car and stepping out. He walked around and opened Lola's door, trying to find the words he wanted.

"I hope you don't think I'm like him," Phil managed to say, offering her his hand, which was not what he meant to say at all.

She let him help her out of the car, and they were suddenly very close together. "You've always taken care of me," she said, putting her arms around his neck. "You and Clint would never let anything bad happen. You don't want me to be a trophy. You want me to be a real person. Car or not, that guy wouldn't want that. He just wants something pretty that goes fast."

"I also hope you don't think I'm your daddy," he said, his hands on her waist.

"You're not my daddy," she said, pulling him down. "You're my Phil. You always have been."

The kiss was long and slow, Lola's body fitting so perfectly against him, so warm and vibrant, so soft. Phil put everything he had into the kiss, everything he'd meant to say, everything he wanted. 

He didn't know how much he'd regret it later, so better to get everything out of the way now.

He finally let her go, and there was nothing for a while but the sound of their breathing. Lola put her head on his shoulder, and he didn't know what to do but hold her there; he couldn't imagine ever wanting to let her go.

Lola lifted her head, looking past him. "That woman is staring at us," she said, breaking the silence.

Phil turned to look. "Shit," he sighed. It was Mrs. Andrews, who was a little too emphatic about how much she supported 'the gay people' whenever he met her at the mailbox; he always felt a little bit like she thought they were a nationality. Even from a hundred yards away he could feel her disapproval. "Let's go inside."

Lola took his hand. "Okay," she said softly. "Let's go."


	6. Chapter 6

"Did it go okay?" Clint asked, as Phil and Lola entered the apartment.

Lola went past him, towards her bedroom. "For certain values of the word 'okay,'" Phil said.

"So it didn't is what you're trying to tell me," Clint said, and Phil gave him the rundown. "Did you slash his tires?" Clint asked.

"The car didn't do anything," Phil said, aghast. "He wasn't even driving it."

"I keep trying to convince you that you're a good person," Clint said.

"Don't let anyone know," Phil grumbled. He rubbed his forehead. "God, I have a headache."

"Kissing attractive women gives you a headache?" Clint said. "Are you sure you're not gay?"

"Cute," Phil said flatly. "I need some ibuprofen." 

"I think it's still in the bathroom," Clint told him. "Don't take twelve of them."

"Thanks," Phil said, not pointing out that pills weren't supposed to be in the bathroom; that was a losing battle that he didn't feel like fighting right at the moment. Phil trudged to the bedroom, completely unprepared for what he was about to see.

When Lola had been a car, she did zero-to-sixty in about 7 seconds. As a human, apparently she did it faster.

Lola was waiting in his bed, completely naked; at some point she'd been underneath the covers, but now the sheets were draped loosely over her calves, folding back to expose miles of soft skin and beautiful curves. Her hand worked between her legs, the other cupping her breast, and her breath came in gasps, moans that were almost unbearable.

She didn't stop when she saw him, just grinned widely. "I found the ignition," she told him.

"You're smarter than that," he said, unable to take his eyes off her. "If the ignition's what makes you start up, it must be in your brain."

She shook her head. "When you put your keys in me, it feels like this," she said, pushing her fingers in deeper. "I'm always waiting for you to take me out. Everything else is just idling."

"I need you to not be doing this," he said, though he was still walking towards the bed. "You don't know what you're asking me for."

"You think I don't know enough?" she said, sounding amused. "Fifty years' worth of people have been inside of me. Do you know how many of them made love?"

"I only know about two," he muttered.

"I'm very hard to resist," she said, "and I don't want you to." She reached out with her foot, trailing it along the inside of his thigh. "Come on."

"I can't," he said reluctantly, trying to hang on to his resolve. "Clint-"

"Then get Clint," she told him, moving her foot higher.

He stared at her.

"One second," he said, walking out.

Clint was sitting on the couch, eating cereal from the box and watching something on the TV. He looked up at Phil. "We're out of milk," he said.

"I need you to come with me," Phil said.

Clint frowned. "What's wrong?"

"I'm going to have sex with Lola, and it's not cheating if you're there," he said.

"Okay," Clint said, closing the box and putting it down on the coffee table.

Phil blinked. "That was much easier than I expected."

"I was shocked when you didn't have her clothes off ten minutes after you brought her home, so I've had some time to mentally prepare," he said sarcastically. Seeing Phil's face, he added, "You did the right thing. I think she's gonna be okay. Let's go."

"I love you," Phil told him.

"You, too," Clint said. He stood up, kissing Phil briefly. "Am I allowed to touch her? You've been known to be kinda sensitive about that."

"I know you," Phil said. "You'd rather watch anyway."

"You caught me," Clint said, palming his ass. "Go on, you've been dying for it since you met her."

"I have not," Phil protested.

"You're certainly dying for it now," Clint said.

"Yes, yes I am," Phil told him, grabbing his wrist and pulling him away. "Now come on."

"Holy hell," Clint said, as they reached the bedroom door. Lola hadn't stopped, her hands still working over her body, her back arching. "I- wow."

"That's about what I said," Phil said, hurriedly undressing, tossing his clothes in the vague direction of the hamper. Clint sat down on the long ottoman at the foot of the bed, watching raptly as Phil pulled back the sheets; he didn't bother with pretense, just climbed on top of her, kissing her wildly, his hand fisted in her hair. She gave as good as she got it, biting at his lips, her fingernails scratching down his back.

"Give it to me," she said, spreading her legs. "I want it."

"Fuck, fuck, hold on," he said breathlessly, reaching into the nightstand for a condom; he tore the package open and rolled it on before hiking her legs up, putting them around his waist. "Ready?"

"Do it," she said, her words turning into a moan as he pushed inside of her. She was just as perfect as he thought she'd be, tight as a glove. It felt like the first time he'd ever started her up and taken her on the highway, that incredible exhilaration, the feeling that they could do anything, just take off and go and go and go. She moved just as perfectly as she ever had on the road, like she could anticipate his movements, know where they were going before they got there.

"God, that's fucking hot," Clint murmured, and Phil groaned. Clint was the only thing in the world that could make this better; the list of people who got to ride in his car was very, very short, the list of drivers even shorter. Clint was the only one who really appreciated her, really understood how much Phil loved her, how important she was. Getting to have her like this was already spectacular, but getting to share it with Clint put it right over the top.

"Love it when you're in me," Lola said, rocking her hips up to meet him. "You make me feel so good, nobody's ever done it like you."

"Nobody else is going to do it," Phil said, thrusting into her faster. "You're my Lola, nobody else's."

"Please, Phil," she gasped. "I'm so hot, I don't know what to do-"

"You're going to take it, and then you're going to come for me," he said, reaching between them to stroke her clit. "Let it happen."

Phil could see it on her face when she came, loud and unashamed, her body clenching hard around him. He bit his lip, trying to hold on for as long as he could, but she was just too much for him. He groaned, reaching out for her hand, lacing their fingers together as he came, pushing deep inside of her.

She put her arms around his neck, pulling him down and kissing him as they leveled out. Finally he managed to untangle the two of them, only staying gone long enough to throw the condom away. He lay back down, pulling her against him, and he could swear she was purring in satisfaction.

He looked up at Clint. "Come here and let me finish you off."

"Too late," Clint said, though he crawled onto the bed anyway, laying on Phil's other side. "You have no idea how hot that was."

"Of course I do," Phil said. "I was there."

"But you didn't get to see it," Clint told him. "You were always so hot driving her. This was just the next logical progression of that."

"I don't think anything about this progression has been particularly logical," Phil pointed out. "But I do have my two favorite people, so I'm not very interested in arguing."

"I like that," Lola said, cuddling up to him.

"Arguing?" Phil asked.

"Being people," she said.

Clint reached across Phil, lacing his fingers into hers. "You're good people."

\--

It was a few days later, and Phil had looked everywhere in the apartment; it wasn't a terribly big place, but he still couldn't find what he wanted.

"Have you seen Lola?" Phil asked Clint, walking into the living room.

Clint frowned. "No. I thought she was with you."

They looked at each other in alarm. "She can't have gotten far," Phil said, hurriedly slipping on his shoes.

"Here's hoping," Clint replied, and they were out the door.

They were lucky; they found her in the parking lot, the hood up on the civilian vehicle that Phil had appropriated from SHIELD's fleet. She had on black pedal pushers and an oversized t-shirt that must have been Clint's, tied off at her waist to keep the hem from snagging on something. She leaned over the engine, almost going up on her tiptoes to reach into it. Something made a noise, and Phil winced.

"Lola?" he asked.

She didn't look at him at first, finishing what she was doing before she closed the hood; she gave it a little pat before she turned to face them.

"Your car's fixed," she said.

"Lola," he said carefully. "Maybe you should let motor pool handle that."

"Your engine was making a little noise," she said, wiping her fingers on what looked like the hand towel from the guest bathroom. She frowned at their expressions. "You couldn't hear it? He's better now." She put her hands on her hips, looking annoyed. "You need a new filter, coolant- even your wiper fluid is low. I'm not even going to ask when the last time you had an oil change was, because you're going to lie to me. It's a total mess in there. You know better than this, Phil Coulson."

"Bingo," Clint said, looking at Phil.

\--

"How does it feel to be SHIELD's only Level 7 mechanic?" Clint asked, as they lay in bed.

"Everyone else is a little scared of me," she says, sounding pleased. "But my coveralls are way too big. I requisitioned new ones, but I'm still waiting."

To be perfectly frank, Phil hoped they were the biggest, baggiest, ugliest coveralls that ever existed. "You know you don't have to work for SHIELD if you don't want to," he said.

"I want to be close to you," she said, nuzzling his arm. "Plus it's more exciting, and they let me punch people who step out of line."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," Phil said.

"You only need to punch them once," Lola said innocently.

Clint was paying little attention to the conversation anymore. He walked his fingers up her thigh, looking between her and Phil. "So, I was wondering-"

She caught his hand, pulling it away. "I told you, I don't like it when you drive," Lola said, swinging a knee over Clint's hips, straddling him. She looked down at him, grinning. "So tonight, I'm gonna drive you."

Phil leaned over, kissing him. "You heard the lady."

"This is me not complaining," Clint said, groaning as she ground down against him. "This is me not complaining at _all_."

It occurred to me suddenly that, after everything that had happened, Phil really ought to thank Stark.

Then he realized what an incredibly dangerous precedent that would set.

Watching was really a much, much better use of his time.

**Author's Note:**

> I have to thank [dizmo](http://ao3.org/users/dizmo), without whom this fic would not exist, because the entire story of its creation was one of "ERIN WHAT HAPPENS NEXT OH GOD." <3


End file.
